"We should stay here," I decided, putting down the pack I had been carrying. "It'll be much safer to sleep in the forest than out in the open."
Jorge watched me for a moment from the field before sighing and walking back to join us. He put his pack next to mine and gave me a look that indicated he was not used to being questioned, let alone disobeyed. Without another word, he began to gather wood for a fire as Will unpacked some food for our meager meal. As he lay out the wood, I caused it to light with a flick of my hand, the fire spirits eager to play after their long wait inside the Elven Forest. Jorge leapt back in surprise and I smiled smugly.
We settled in for the night, myself on one side of the fire, Jorge on the other. Will sat between us, a silent wall dividing our mistrust. Fynn's warning echoed in my mind, while Fynn himself sat at the edge of the firelight, watching the shadows. The only sound was the gently crackling flames, and I held out my hands to their warmth.
The trees cried a warning, but before I could rise from my spot by the fire, the attackers were on us. Will was on his feet, an elven dagger in each hand, stabbing at a figure still cloaked in darkness. Jorge swore loudly and reached for his axe. Feeling panicked by the sudden attack, I stepped away from the fire, towards the darkness where I had last seen Fynn. My protector was nowhere to be found, but something else was there. Grasping hands reached out to me, and I cried out, raising a hand in defense. The wind burst from my palm on its own, a gale forcing my attacker back and knocking me to the ground. I blinked, and Fynn was there with his sword drawn.
“Faerie,” he spat, his eyes searching the forest.
“They’ve been with us since we left the elves,” Jorge commented roughly, pulling me to my feet. “Hadn’t you noticed?”
Fynn said nothing, but I could tell from the look in his eyes that he had. Will came over to join us, searching the shadows like the others. I felt myself flush with shame as I realized I was the only one who had not realized we would be resting in an ambush, yet the others had agreed with my decision.
“Stay back by the fire, my Lady,” Jorge spoke the title like an insult.
Embarrassed and angry, I ignored his advice and headed into the forest, determined to find our assailants for myself. Jorge swore as I walked away, and I felt Fynn fall into step behind me. I hoped Will would keep the messenger with him at the camp while I took care of the faerie. I had a fairly good idea who was behind it anyway.
“Come out, Mattis,” I shouted, crossing my arms in front of my chest impatiently.
Laughter filled the trees, and I could sense the displeasure of the forest spirits. Fynn moved a step closer to me, his uneasiness joining that of the trees. There was a sudden whirlwind of leaves and Mattis was there, looking more wild than before. I heard Fynn inhale sharply, but he said nothing as the new Woodwalker bowed mockingly at me.
“My dear Leila,” Mattis said. “You look different. Have you done something with your hair?”
“Knock it off, Mattis,” I replied. “Get your faeries to leave us alone.”
“My faeries?” the Woodwalker repeated in an injured tone. “Surely you haven’t forgotten my beloved Queen? They are her servants, as I am.”
I rolled my eyes. I was in no mood to play games with Mattis now. Fynn put a warning hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.
“Well then, please ask your beloved Queen to stop bothering us,” I said.
Mattis straightened and looked down on me with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Remember who you’re speaking to, Leila. The Faerie Queen is powerful in this world as well as hers, and won’t take kindly to threats.”
“I’m not powerless either,” I reminded him.
Mattis raised an eyebrow, and took a step back. He bowed deeply to me and vanished in a swirl of leaves. I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and turned to Fynn, a smile on my face. The look I got from him destroyed my accomplishment in an instant. He shook his head and sighed.
“Don’t go looking for trouble, Leila,” he told me sternly. “The Faerie Queen will take your message as an insult.”
“She started it,” I mumbled childishly.
Fynn gave me a half-smile at that remark and put his arm around my shoulders. “I know you’re concerned about meeting the new Huryl queen, but don’t let it bother you too much.”
We made our way back to the campsite, where Jorge and Will were standing by the fire, surprised at the sudden lack of faerie attackers. I smiled smugly to Jorge and sat by the fire again, allowing the flames to leap onto my hand and twirl their way up my arm. The Huryl grunted and rolled himself in his cloak to sleep.
*****
The next morning, once we had crossed the border, we found a carriage and several Huryl horsemen waiting to escort us to the capital city. I was grateful for the transportation, not wanting to have to walk all the way back, and I leaned back on my seat to relax and mentally prepare for my meeting. I must have dozed off, for the next thing I knew Will was shaking my shoulder and the carriage was passing through the gates of the Huryl citadel.
This time, as the carriage clattered down the main street, I was able to look out on the Huryl capital without fear. The daily bustle of the citizens reminded me of Oponoe, but the similarities of the two cities ended there. Where Oponoe had been open, inviting, and full of life, the Huryl capital was its opposite. The streets were narrow and lined on both sides by tall flat facades of houses and shops. All the buildings were made of the same cold gray stone, with small doors and windows chiseled out of them. There were no paintings or decorations, just a short word or two outside the door indicating what the shop sold, or the name of the family residing there. I peered out of the quickly moving carriage and caught brief glimpses of the faces of the Huryl citizens. Had we been among the Dyrel, the people would have stopped to watch the carriage pass, perhaps raising a hand in greeting as it moved by. The Huryl were cautious and apprehensive, averting their eyes and quickly hiding behind closed doors.
Saddened by their reaction, I sat back against the comfortable cushions of the carriage and glanced at each of my companions. Fynn sat directly across from me, staring out the window as I had been, lost in thought. I looked away before he sense me watching and broke free of his reverie. Next to him sat Jorge, seemingly very pleased to be back home. His eyes were focused straight ahead, although not looking at Will, who sat across from him. Jorge had his hands clasped on his lap, his expression serious as it had been throughout our journey. I found myself a little frightened by his fierce appearance.
I turned my head to look at Will sitting beside me. His face was white with fear and I realized with growing horror that I had not fully explained his presence here. I reached over and touched his hand, hoping to silently reassure him. His eyes flickered from our hands to my eyes, and he attempted a smile. I dared not speak openly to him with Jorge so close, so I squeezed his hand and mouthed the word “trust”. Will frowned slightly as he tried to interpret my reassurances, but he squeezed my hand back. Satisfied, I sat back in my seat and saw Fynn regarding me with his all seeing eyes.
The carriage slowed to a halt and the door next to Jorge swung open. I blinked in surprise to realize we were already at the citadel. Jorge and Will exited, followed by men and Fynn. A servant held out his hand to help me down and I accepted it gratefully. The sky had darkened noticeably since we entered the city, and two torch-bearing servants waited to escort us inside. With Will by my side and Fynn directly behind me, I followed Jorge into the citadel. After only a few steps into the richly decorated hall, Jorge stopped and turned to face me.
“I fear our time together is at an end for now, my Lady,” he said with a bow. “Her Majesty’s Master of House will arrive shortly to escort you to the Queen. Farewell.”
With those quick words, Jorge turned on his heel and walked briskly down the hallway. As the clicking of his books vanished, I turned to my friends. Will was practically shaking with fear, his face white and his eyes darting back and forth. I put one hand on his shoulder and he flinched under my touch.
“Trust me,” I said, “and let me do all the talking.”
Will stared at me as if I had just told a very insulting joke and gestured angrily to his throat, rolling his eyes. I winced as I realized what I had just said, and Fynn chuckled.
“Sorry,” I whispered as the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps filled the hall.
A man wearing a flowing blue robe and carrying a tall staff was moving towards us. I saw he had shaved his head and wore dark eye makeup on his face. He stopped in front of me and bowed, although it was obvious from his expression that it pained him to do so. His dark eyes met mine and his mouth curled contemptuously.
“I am Devon, Master of House to her Majesty Queen Samara. The Queen commands me to bring you to her in her private study. Follow.”
Without pausing to see if we were coming, he strode down the hall. Will, Fynn, and I scrambled to catch up with his quick pace. After a few confusing twists and turns, Devon stopped in front of an ornate wooden door, on which he knocked twice with his staff. With a final sneer in my general direction, he swung open the door and bowed in one motion.
“The Warrior Leila,” Devon announced. He paused before adding, “and guests.”
He stepped to one side so we could enter, bowing his head slightly towards us as we passed and closing the door firmly behind us. The room we were in was full of comfortable cushions on the floor, with sheer fabric hanging around them. There was a fountain toward the back and I could hear the flowing water as well as the musical laughter of the water spirits. A low table laden with food separated the cushions from the fountain, and it was next to the table that the Queen of the Huryl stood.
She was a beautiful woman, with long black hair decorated with jewels. Unlike the fat and pale King Cedrik, the new queen’s skin was tanned a golden brown and her intelligent eyes were a stunning green. Her red painted lips parted into a gracious smile and she rushed forward, arms extended, to clasp my hands. I thought that she couldn’t be much older than I was, and my gaze was lost in the flowing green fabric of her dress. Suddenly, she was standing before me, clasping my hands firmly in hers.
“Leila!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”
Confused, I inclined my head towards her. “Your Majesty.”
The Queen released one of my hands to brush the title aside with the other, waving it in my face as if to clear the air of a distasteful odor. “Please, let’s be informal here. Call me Samara. I want us to be friends.”
She led me into the room, and I couldn’t help but start to like the young woman who had seized the throne. She sat me down on one of the cushions, motioning for Fynn and Will to occupy the other two as she sat across from me. She was so close our knees were practically touching. Still holding my hand, she turned to greet my friends.
“You must be the Woodwalker,” Samara remarked to Fynn.
He bowed his head politely. “No longer, Your Majesty, but I once held that title.”
Samara nodded in return and focused on Will.
“I’ve been told quite a lot about you, Will,” the young queen remarked with sudden seriousness. “You’re a very dangerous man.”
Will made no response to the comment, his features firm and unreadable. The queen pursed her lips for a moment before returning her attention to me. The glorious smile returned as she squeezed my hand.
“Leila, thank you so much for killing Cedrik,” Samara said suddenly.
I blinked in surprise. “You’re thanking me?”
Samara nodded. “If you and your friends hadn’t killed that fat pig, I’d still be a prisoner. Now look at me, I’m a queen!”
“So all that talk about answering for our crimes?” I began.
Will look over at me sharply, his face momentarily betraying his surprise before it settled back into a mask.
“That was just for show,” Samara said dismissively, waving her hand again. “Something to keep the nobles happy. I need to be a strong ruler to keep my throne. The Huryl are a difficult tribe.”
I smiled, glancing over at Fynn and trying to keep the smug expression from my face. I knew Samara couldn’t be as heartless and cruel as Cedrik and Mattis. Fynn, however, denied me any satisfaction by ignoring my look and focusing instead on the Queen.
“You were a prisoner?” Fynn asked, picking up on a comment I had missed.
Samara sighed, releasing my hand as she fell further back against her cushion. She draped one hand over her brow dramatically and sighed again.
“Yes, I was being held here by Cedrik against my wishes. He kept me locked away in a tower in case my father dared cross him.”
She sat up quickly again, a bright smile on her beautiful face.
“But that’s all behind me, now that I’m Queen.”
The Queen waved her hand at a waiting servant, who passed us golden goblets of wine. Will was watching the Samara closely, his hand not moving towards his drink. Fynn declined his as well asking for water instead, and I held my goblet as Samara downed her drink in one steady gulp.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I brought you here,” the queen said after a moment, replacing her now empty goblet on the servant’s tray.
“I meant what I said about peace with the Dyrel,” she continued. “Cedrik’s war for power doesn’t interest me, and I need my army here.”
“Then why send for us?” I asked.
The young queen sat forward, grasping my hand once more. I saw Will eyeing her suspiciously while Fynn remained relaxed. I knew him well enough by now, however, to catch the cautious glint in his eye. Samara stared at me with her deep green eyes, which were glistening with unshed tears.
“Leila,” she said, “my people are in trouble.”
I blinked in surprise. “The city looked peaceful enough to me.”
“No, not the Huryl!” she said in annoyance. “My people! Mine! The Samran tribe of the north! They’re being attacked by a savage snow beast.” The pleading gaze returned and her voice softened. “I need your help.”
Will gestured almost angrily at the Queen, his fingers making walking motions as he nodded with his head towards the window.
“Yes, why don’t you just send your army?” I translated for Will.
“The Huryl won’t go north and my commander is incompetent,” Samara replied, the annoyance returning into her voice.
She released my hand. “The army won’t obey me until I execute Cedrik’s killer. They’re dug into Oponoe, claiming their right as followers of Prince Mattis. I need my father’s people to get them off the Dyrel lands and under my control. If you don’t help, our lands will never see peace.”
I folded my hands in my lap and swallowed. The last thing I wanted to do was get involved in Huryl politics, not after all the White Lady had shown me. What could I do, really? The prophecies were false, set in place to protect me, but in the end they were more of a hindrance than a help. If I was going to unite the three worlds, I would need all the help I could get; and I already owed Damaeon so much.
“Very well,” I agreed, ignoring Will’s incredulous look. “We will go north to help your tribe, but you must swear to peace with the Dyrel.”
“I will treat the Dyrel as one of my own tribes,” Queen Samara promised, solemnly placing her hand over her heart.
I smiled. “What kind of snow beast are we talking about?”
“Wyvern.”
Fynn choked on his water, hastily setting the goblet down. Will was slowly shaking his head, arms crossed in front of his chest. I looked from him to Fynn and opened my mouth to ask the obvious question.
“It’s a dragon,” Fynn replied before I could make a sound. “The fiercest I’ve ever seen. Its breath is colder than ice and its talons are razor sharp.”
Will mimicked being sliced to ribbons by razor sharp talons. I clenched my hands into fists, trying to find some comfort for the unsettling feeling in my stomach. I could sense the fear of the spirits within me, echoing my own.
“How do we defeat it?” I asked.
Samara shook her head. “The mightiest warriors of my father’s tribe have tried and failed. No one knows the beast’s weakness.”
I felt my heart sink, cursing myself for accepting before I had heard all the details. Will, Fynn, and me against a dragon. I thought of Damaeon and the ruins of Oponoe and took a calming breath. It was for them that I would fight, for the worlds I had promised to save, not for the selfish Queen who sat before me.
“We’ll figure something out,” I said.
Samara clapped her hands in delight and rang a small silver bell. In seconds Devon, Master of the House, was at the door. Samara rose as he bowed deeply, and I followed her to where Devon stood.
“The Master of the House will show you to your rooms. Everything is prepared for you to leave in the morning.”
I forced a smile. “Terrific.”
“Jorge will guide you to my father’s tribe, where he’ll introduce you to my people. I know you’ll do fine, Leila. You are the prophesied Warrior, after all.”
I felt that it would be bad timing to tell her the prophecy of her people was false, so I kept the smile plastered to my lips and followed Devon from the room.
*****
As the door closed on the Warrior and her companions, Jorge materialized from the shadows to stand beside his Queen.
“Make sure they don’t return,” Samara ordered, all the warmth from her voice gone. “I’ll have the assault on the Elven Forest ready for your return.”
Jorge bowed low. “Yes, my Queen.”